


ghost light

by rudddddddy



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019), 1917 (Movie 2019) Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Consent is Sexy, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Fingering, I Can't Believe It's Not Beta'd!, Reader fic - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Self Insert, Serious Making Out, Slow Burn, Straight To Horny Jail, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudddddddy/pseuds/rudddddddy
Summary: you’re an overworked stagehand at your local theatre and help build sets for a play, which happens to be a stage adaptation of your favorite novel. when it’s announced that acclaimed actor george mackay is the lead, you try to ignore the crush you begin to develop for him. besides, he’s way too famous to ever be interested in you...right?
Relationships: George MacKay/Original Female Character(s), George MacKay/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	ghost light

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! um, so this was **not** supposed to be this long, but i’ve had this on my mind for a while and decided to just go for it. it’s unbeta’d, so apologizes for any obvious mistakes. it's also been a while since i've worked in theatre, so, sorry if i got some technical things wrong. disclaimer that ofc this is entirely fictional (i don’t know george in real life lol). this is a slooow burn (like hella slow burn) so strap in and enjoy!
> 
> song recs: fool for you by snoh aalegra / true affection by the blow / to be alone by hozier

you hated when it got dark so early. clutching your lukewarm coffee in one hand and your backpack strap with the other, you watched as the headlights of passing buses and cars drove by on the opposite side of the street as you struggled to stay awake. long, late nights meant waking up well after noon and spending most of your day watching netflix or attempting to cook something quick and edible (usually ramen) before heading to work in the early evening. daylight savings time is a scam, and you already felt exhausted because it looked like it was midnight even though it was only 5:30.

thankfully, you loved your job. that was the only reason why you let yourself walk around like a zombie. you spent most of your life as a theatre kid, even though you never really had the acting chops or voice for it, and realized that doing anything else with your life wouldn’t be worth it. over the years, you worked yourself up from college shows, to local productions, to indie plays, and now you lived in the city and worked at a critically acclaimed theatre. sure, some days were worse than others, and you’ve definitely been awake 48 hours straight before - sleeping in hallway closets and underneath tables - but the cast and crew were your favorite people in the world. and if they let you, you'd move into the basement like some kind of theatre crypt -  _ a la  _ phantom of the opera.

and so when you stepped off the bus and walked into the building, you had completely forgotten why everyone was running around in a panic. you stood there a moment, looking over at the clock and wondering if maybe you accidentally showed up mega late, when it dawned on you. oh right, george mackay was coming to his first rehearsal.

you’d completely forgotten about the week-long meetings prepping the crew and staff for what was, in their opinion, the most important thing to happen to the theatre since patrick stewart was seen in the audience. george mackay, a rising star in the film industry, had decided not only to go back to his roots and perform in his first stage play in  _ years _ (according to your coworkers), but to be in  _ this _ production, off  _ all _ other theaters. you weren’t entirely sure how or why  _ this _ was the one he chose or if he even had anything to do with the selection at all, but you knew it would make the coming weeks even more exciting. or stressful, depending on who you were.

and your stage manager, trey, was definitely stressed out. 

“jesus,  _ there _ you are,” he hissed, rounding the corner and nearly scaring your soul out of your body. 

“wrong deity,” you said once you recovered and pretended to flip your hair over your shoulder. he frowned.  _ okaaay _ , not the time. noted.

“walk with me.” the two of you moved through the crowd, which was a lot busier than an average monday night - when a show wasn’t playing, of course. you didn’t even recognize half the people in the house. “i need you to go in the back and help the others. george mackay’s publicist is here and i need everyone to have their shit together.” he must have been more nervous than he let on, because instead of wearing his usual t-shirt and jeans, he wore a black turtle neck and slacks. he was a tall, lanky black man who only dressed out of his classic rock tees when he was forced to. 

backstage, there were even more people. mostly photographers and journalists. a nervous feeling twisted in your gut as you remembered  _ hm, wow, i really don’t look good enough for a picture right now _ . and you’re pretty sure you were wearing the same black leggings you’ve worn all week. wonderful.

but no one paid any attention to you, thankfully. trey did get a fair amount fo questions thrown at him and he gave them a blinding smile when a camera flash went off, but as soon as you two passed security -  _ security?!  _ \- you were alone again.

“i’m going to throw up,” you said, only half joking.

“very funny,” he said sarcastically, but still shot you a look daring you to try him anyway. when you two finally arrived in his office, he handed you a badge. you held it out in front of you, inspecting the picture from three hairstyles ago. how the hell did he get ahold of this picture?

“wow, this  _ is _ serious,” you mumbled at the glossy badge. this was the first and only time you’d ever needed one. guess they want to make sure you weren’t some fanatic stalker. “i don’t think the doormen are going to forget my face, though.”

“it’s not for them, it’s for the security we hired.” now your eyebrows nearly shoot to your hairline. he shrugged. “yeah, who knew that when you cast a famous actor as the lead, you’d need extra fuckin’ security.”

“yeah, who knew,” you said as you cringe at the botched dye job on your badge. people really let you do this to your hair and didn’t say  _ anything _ ? this was not the blast from the past you needed right now. you took a sip from your coffee as trey finished rummaging through the papers on his desk. it was completely cold now. you cringed. 

“do you have the paperwork?” you nodded and zipped open your backpack, handing him over the forms. your eyes kind of glazed over last night reading over them, but you knew it was something about consent to having your picture taken, disclosure agreement not to share information about the production, and a 20-page contract that trey summed up during last week’s meeting to basically agree to not even  _ look _ in george mackay’s direction. which would be impossible not to do since, y’know, you’d be in the same freaking building as him for like 3 months, but whatever.

he flipped through the documents quickly before nodding and put them in a manilla envelope, tucking it into an accordion file organizer with the others. he checked his watch. “alright, maggie is giving the publicist a tour. would you be ready to help show her the wardrobe and workshop rooms?” you balked at him, staring with wide eyes. “that wasn’t really a question.”

“i figured,” you finally squeaked out. “i haven’t even finished my coffee yet.”

“well, chug it, because they’re on their way.”

that was the fastest you drank cold coffee in your life (and that was  **not** a pleasant experience). you thankfully manage to not spill any of it on you and you stole one of trey’s travel size mouthwashes just moments before there was a knock on the door. maggie, the assistant director, who was a curvy older woman with wild curly red hair, opened the door. not usually one to smile, she plastered a fake one on her face as she entered and a thin blonde woman walked in behind her. 

you were shocked to see that  _ this _ was george mackay’s publicist - she looked to not be a day over 25, but had the aura of someone who’s been in the business 50 years and could eat your heart for breakfast. during the introductions - carol, you learned her name was - shook your hand with a manicured hand and rings that had to have cost more than your entire salary. she definitely gave you charlize theron vibes. 

during your tour, she nodded minutely at the rooms and asked several in-depth questions about things from cosmetic brands to real-versues-battery-opperated-candles to the integrity of the building. even though she’d seen pictures of the departments at your theatre, this was carol’s final look through to make sure everything was “adequate.” the contract had already been signed, and you were slightly annoyed that you were wasting time giving her a grand tour. you couldn’t help but think if george mackay will be this bad - surely if his damned publicist was driving you up the wall, he’d be just as persnickety. what if he was one of those actors that thought he was “all that”? you weren’t sure if it was the coffee or carol’s presence that made you so jittery, and you could only guess at what lay ahead.

the staff meeting was made unnecessarily long and boring despite the nervous energy that hung in the air. people you’ve worked with for years sat in house, yourself and several other key stagehands sitting with the producers, directors, and designers in the front row. you wished you were sitting with some of your friends but since you were deemed “important” enough, you had to pretend like the photographers taking pictures of you didn’t bother you. and try as you might, you couldn’t help but think -  _ all this for just  _ **_one guy?_ ** __

the meeting was a culmination of the previous week’s snore-fest. no asking for autographs. no pictures. no gifts. no talking outside this building about the cast - which didn’t even make sense because the journalists were there, documenting the entire damned thing. you were reminded for the hundredth time of the contract and nondisclosure agreement you signed, until finally,  _ finally _ the meeting was over. 

afterwards, most of the crew went backstage to resume their tasks, and the journalists swarmed the crew. trey looked like he was going to pass out from the claustrophobic attention, and you were pretty sure maggie’s face was going to crack in half from the force of her fake smile. you climbed up onto the stage to get started on some set work when you heard a flurry of voices rise just as you stepped into the wings. turning around, you felt your heart leap in your throat before you registered exactly  _ who _ you were looking at.

standing slightly outside the wings on the opposite side of the stage was george mackay himself, a sheepish grin on his face as a group of people crowded around him. the journalists rushed to get onto the stage and had to be shooed off by security. despite the warnings only mere minutes ago, cast members inched closer to him with wide eyes and dazed smiles, and security had to  _ politely _ remind them of what they agreed on. anne, who played a key supporting role as george mackay’s opposite, was especially goggly-eyed over him. you had to force yourself not to roll your eyes.

the first thing you really noticed about him was that he really was an average man. the second thing you noticed was his height, and then his messy reddish brown hair. he’d grown out his hair a bit for this particular role, and that it all culminated into a subtle attractiveness that kind of reminded you of a boy-next-door - the longer you looked at him, the more attractive he became. 

his smile turned into a slight frown as he started to slowly back away from the crowd around him. you averted your eyes instantly. sure, you weren’t in his face, but you were drawn to him all the same and you chastised yourself for not just ignoring him. you blamed some part of that on how the group acted towards him, because really, he just seemed like a normal guy who just so happened to be in movies. you wondered if you’d even react if you passed each other on the street, and after battling internally with yourself for a moment, you reluctantly decided that  _ yes _ , you would have been able to walk right past him without stopping. (... _ right? _ )

so you turned back around and disappeared backstage, forcing yourself to get your head in the game and keep your distance.

* * *

it remained hectic like that for a long time. carol, with her high heels clicking up and down the hallways, was a constant presence, along with others on his pr team and his security guards. (some of the security guards, you came to find out, really weren’t that bad, they just looked scary but were actually pretty nice once they realized you weren’t going to bulldoze them other to get into george mackay’s dressing room.) and george mackay’s presence was there, too, living rent free in people’s minds and conversations even if he wasn’t around. 

from the stories you heard about george mackay, you were slightly relieved that he was cordial, if maybe a little too polite. (not that it really mattered since you were unlikely to even speak during his time there, but it was always nice to know which actor was genuinely nice and which one put up a front.) it became nearly impossible to forget him because no one would shut up about him. whispers and giggles filled the dressing rooms and on more than one occasion, a cast member would sit down with you and gush about the latest “hot” thing george mackay did. (turns out even drinking a cup of coffee or adjusting his belt to make sure it fit him were grounds to land people in horny jail.) you teased and played along with the cast until trey marched down and practically dragged them away from you. 

but as pre-production began to end, you were able to run some errands back and forth from the back of house to the front. since the play was based on your favorite book of all time, you were eager to see how it was all coming together. while you had a certain image in mind when you read it, it was still exciting to see it on the stage and you wondered how george mackay was carrying the weight as the lead. but it was usually either too early or too late when you managed to escape backstage, and he was always gone by the time you crawled out of the abyss.

as a stagehand, you cycled through many roles depending on what production you worked on. and since you had seniority, you had some say about what you wanted to do, and you chose to help design, build, and paint set pieces every time. it really was like watching a new world come to life right in front of your eyes, and you even spent nights reading your favorite passages from the novel when you came home, inspired even after a long night.

you weren’t able to see george mackay at all those first couple weeks. it was only in the early afternoons or late evenings when you were able to actually set foot on the stage and resume painting, stapling, or hammering the pieces into place. but that didn’t mean you aren’t immune to the stories about him - his hair, his smile, his height. you were almost positive that he  _ had _ to have known the things people were saying about him, and you began to feel a little more guilty about talking about him behind his back. after all, yes he was an actor, but you were hard pressed to gather any information on him from the cast members other than his looks. carol and others who controlled his appearances were true to their word and made sure to limit his exposure to them - not that you could blame them, when so many people acted like jesus christ himself was on that stage. 

maybe he was feeling alienated not only by his management, but by the very people who were supposed to be professional. ...or maybe he just wanted to be left alone. you weren't sure, and you sure as hell weren’t going to go out and ask him, so you stayed holed up in the workroom with the others, blasting music and hanging out with your favorite people in the world.

working late one night, your questions were answered. pre-production was almost over, and while the big structures were all built, details such as windows, pictures, and dresser drawers all had to be touched up. it was a never-ending project, but you didn’t mind working later than the others. your cell phone died a hours ago, so you listened to a dusty radio you found in the prop room and lost track of time as you hummed to the classic rock your parents listen to when you suddenly heard a noise behind you.

“who’s there?” you asked, whirling around, your heart in your throat. the palette knife you used to mix paint wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was the best you could do. 

“my apologizes,” said a voice you recognized. george mackay opened the workshop door the rest of the way and you could literally feel your brain short-circuit. “i thought it was just me here.”

“oh,” you said, still crouched with the palette knife in your hand. you set it down, forcing yourself to stand up straight and smile at him awkwardly. “sorry. for a second there, i almost stabbed you.”

he smiled at that, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. he was in a long-sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms and dark pants. he looked absolutely exhausted, and had deep circles under his eyes. you tried not to let your gaze linger on him too long, and you stood there awkwardly staring at the floor for a moment before walking over to the sink to wash your hands. you noticed they were shaking slightly.  _ christ, and he just showed up!  _ maybe being starstruck is a medical condition, and if it was, you had it bad.

“what are you working on back here?” he asked. out of the corner of your eye, you watched him step into the workshop and look around at the set pieces. it was the face of an old cathedral mobilized on wheels so it can move easily between scenes. 

“oh, um, y’know, just touching up some things,” you said, half dazed that he was really talking to you. okay,  _ clam down. it’s not like he’s really that interested.  _ you wiped the water on the front of your paint-splattered overalls, your fingers coming away with green paint and glue. you wipe it on your shirt underneath. 

“and what do you do?” he asked politely, and you had to suppress another wave of shock.

“um, well, officially i’m a stagehand, but also kind of a jack of all trades,” you said, blushing at the way he was watching you, as if he were really invested in what you were saying. “i do a lot of the prop work and painting. i helped them design the cathedral here,” you gestured to it, “and some of the background art. i helped finish painting some of the stained glass there just yesterday and i’ve been working on the finishing touches on the furniture for the priest’s office. but you can usually tell if i’m back here when you hear me bossing people around.”

okay, you were officially babbling way too much. you cringed inwardly at yourself, waiting for him to say thank you and leave. but instead, his eyes were trained on the massive set in front of him, tilting his head as if he were inspecting a work of art. 

“well, you’re very talented,” he said, turning from the cathedral to face you. you could have died right then and there as his ice blue eyes connected with yours. man, if this was how he interacted with all of the cast and crew members, no wonder they were putty in his hands. 

then he began to look at you strangely for a moment before a small smile touched his lips. his eyes were focused somewhere by your ear. “you have a bit of paint in your hair, love.”

_ love _ . oh, no. your heart catapulted inside your chest at the word. you barely registered what he said as you reached up to touch your hair, confirming that there was in fact a clump of paint there. you were so shocked you couldn’t even be embarrassed. “oh, i, uh, thanks. thank you.”

_ oh my god, shut up shut up shut up! _

he pressed his lips together in a small, awkward grin and you felt like a fool, an absolute  _ fool! _ this was the only interaction you were ever going to have with him, and he was going to forever remember you as an awkward weirdo with paint in her hair! you picked up a worn bandana, wiping some of it away the best you could. 

“we haven’t meet before officially, have we?” he suddenly asked, and extended one of his hands out to you. “i apologize, i hope we haven’t met before and i don’t remember it. i’m george.”

you pause for a moment, before forcing yourself to thrust your hand out to his. his hand completely closed around yours, and the first thought you had was  _ warm _ . he shook your hand gently, yet with some firmness. 

you say your name in turn, and you both drop your hands at the same time. the heat lingered and you were  _ sure _ your blush was obvious as hell.

“oh, i’ve actually, uh, just been stuck back here, busy making sure everything is going smoothly, picking up some projects. i don’t really mind, though it’s not  _ usually _ this crazy around here...” you pressed your lips together to keep from going on. you did  _ not _ just say that to him. 

“oh, i-i’m sorry,” you went on, suddenly in a panic. “i’m just a little tired and i’m not used to, um.”  _ not used to what? ‘talking to someone so famous?’ yeah, like that’s what he wants to hear right now! _ you laugh at yourself, a tone of self-deprecation in your throat. “i don’t know what i’m saying...”

understanding reached his blue eyes as he looked at you. “it’s okay,” he said. “i understand.” 

he didn’t elaborate, and an awkward silence lingered. you really wished you’d died as soon as he looked at you so you could have avoided this entire encounter. but he stayed there with you, lingering by the half-finished set pieces. he leaned against one of the tables, not appearing to care about the sawdust getting on his clothes. you wondered why he was still here - wasn’t it late? and why was he still here with  _ you _ ? 

he crossed his long legs at the ankle, stretching them out in front of him as he put his hands in his pockets. you tried not to openly ogle him, but when you caught sight of the veins protruding his muscled arms, you felt yourself begin to blush again. how did you  _ ever _ think he was just ‘average looking’?! 

“how do you like it working here so far?” you blurted out, your cheeks burning. you try to avert your eyes from him, and blindly pick up a prop to start turning over in your hands. it was a candelabra and you nervously ran a finger over one of its curves.

you didn’t dare look at his face to see his expression, but he turned back to you, still appearing to be lost in thought. “it’s been absolutely fantastic. well, you know your people better than i, and there’s just this  _ energy _ here that fills me with a lot of joy. not just on stage, but in every room. it’s what initially drew me here, and so when i had the opportunity to audition for a role, i had to take it. this is on my bucket-list, so to speak.”

“ _ you _ picked us?” you asked in shock, now looking up to see him. he nodded. “huh...i always assumed it was your team who did...or maybe carol.”

a touch of humor reached his eyes. his mouth pulled up into a half smile, and he laughed, actually  _ laughed.  _ “if there’s one thing i know about carol, is that she definitely believes in  _ modernity _ . there’s a certain old-school charm about this theatre - carol never understood my attraction to it. this is a tiny theatre and i may be too late in my career to do something this small. but can’t say i regret it at all... even if i caused a bit of chaos as a result,” he finished with a soft, knowing smile.

for the first time since he walked in, you felt as if you understood him, even just a little bit. you loved your job - not only because of the gorgeous building, but also because of the people in it. you hadn’t noticed, but a small smile had crossed your face as he spoke about this ol’ building that had become a second home to you. pride swelled in your chest. 

you laugh, the tightness in your gut loosening a bit. “well, it’s good to have you here.”

his smile widened before something buzzed. he looked down at his phone and his eyebrows furrowed. “damn. sorry, i’ve got t’go.” he shot a look up at you, lingering warmth in his eyes. “it was great to finally meet the mysterious stagehand.”

“you, too,” you said dumbly, watching him walk back towards the door. 

“see you ‘round, love,” he called, his face now in his screen as he rounded the corner. your whole body buzzed at the word  _ love _ again and it took a while after he was out of sight to relax.

when he stayed gone, your body slumped against the table. your mind swam with images of his laugh and smile - but most of all, of the awe he felt being at this theatre, appreciating the work that goes into from the inside out. you argued with yourself that he was like that with everyone - that he really was this polite and charming. 

but it didn’t matter because, just like that, you were done for.

* * *

that night, you spent an embarrassing amount of time googling him. at first you felt a little icky doing it - how would george mackay react knowing that you were investigating him? but you shook your head at yourself - after all, he probably assumed most people there knew about him and his work. and he was a very private person anyways, taking care to keep his life away from the spotlight as much as possible, so you didn’t find anything particularly damning about him. after a while, you were too far down the rabbit hole to care either way, and even watched one of his movies you found on netflix. and sometime after the 5th or 6th interview, you were completely enamored by him. 

over the next few days after that, your crush began to develop completely by accident. (well, okay, you definitely lingered an hour before your shift started to listen to him practice his lines, and you  _ definitely _ didn’t have to make up excuses to pass script notes from the lighting to the sound guys to see him on stage.) but even when you weren't going out of your way to catch a glimpse of him, george mackay somehow lingered in your thoughts.

he was polite, cordial even, but not as personable as he was that first night. in fact, you soon began to realize he wasn’t that personal with  _ anyone _ . he did sometimes joke with the cast members and began to actually have conversations with the crew - much to carol’s chagrin - but you never heard anyone talk with george mackay the way he had with you.

you only noticed that your crush _might_ have become a problem when you dreamed about him - **_seriously?!_** _you hadn’t had a dream about an actor since you were in high school!_ \- and after you woke up seriously turned on, you decided to call in sick.

on your day off, you tried to relax and not think about the possible work piling up or missing out on another conversation with george mackay. there was _ no way _ you could even touch yourself and face him the next day, so you ran some errands and spent the day trying to get a hold of your damned self. if your crush went on like this, it would only lead to disappointment. he was an  _ actor _ \- he probably had, like, ten girlfriends on speed dial or something. and your love life was severely lacking, so it was only natural that you’d latch onto someone so freaking gorgeous and untouchable. maybe it was time you started dating again? but after you redownloaded tinder and received your third unsolicited dick pic in a row, you decided to call it a night and go to bed early. 

the next day, you tried to blame your nerves on the coffee as you went into work. you waited until the last minute to leave so that you two would hopefully miss each other, yet you were still somehow disappointed when you saw he wasn’t there. making a beeline to the back of house, you were greeted with a mountain of work to do and a hyperventilating trey. 

the day passed without much interruption, and you focused on your work so long, you forgot to eat dinner. between acts, you used the rare moment you were alone to go the the break room. it was too late in the evening for anyone else to be there except for a janitor, who left you alone. unpacking your sandwich, you played on your phone while you ate and were startle when there was a light knock on the door.

“are y’feeling better?” you turned to the voice, your heart already hammering against your chest before your eyes even fell on mackay, who was standing at the doorway, presumably on his way to his changing room. his forehead glistened with a thin sheen of sweat - he still wore the heavy coat he needed for a scene that took place during a blizzard, but had to be stifling under the stagelights. 

“um, i’m sorry?” you said around a mouthful fo food before choking it down.

he smiled, raising an eyebrow. “i heard you were a bit under the weather yesterday?”

_ he noticed? _ your mouth fell open at that, and you snapped it shut. you felt like you were transported into a cheesy romcom and the hot guy you were secretly pining after noticed the invisible girl was absent. the sudden realization that maybe you hadn’t been as inconspicuous, or as invisible, as you thought you were made your palms sweat. had you really been that obvious? good god, you wanted to die right then and there. 

“oh, um, yeah,” you said, nodding at him like an absolute maniac. “but i’m feeling a lot better, thanks.”

perhaps noticing your inner turmoil - or realizing that you were, in fact, turning into that crazy fangirl actors hired security guards to protect themselves from - he forced an awkward grin at you. “well then, good t’see you’re back. be seeing you.” 

you waited a few seconds after he disappeared to slump over, covering your face with your hands.  _ good god, how ridiculous could you be? _ can’t you at least act like he’s just a normal person instead of being so awkward? and was he teasing you because he knew? 

you took a a few deep breaths to calm down and noticed the janitor looking at you. catching your eyes, he wagged his eyebrows and winked knowingly. you blushed, going back to your sandwich.

* * *

now that dress rehearsal began, it was easier to avoid him. the embarrassment you felt overran any desire you had to see how the play was going, and you’d even begun to eat your dinners in the workshop. (trey wanted to strangle you the first couple times he’d caught you, but working 5-hours straight turned into a great excuse.)

from the stories you continued to hear about george mackay - whether you wanted to hear them or not - he was in a lot of ways a very stereotypical british man. he liked to drink tea (though only after rehearsal, never before) and said things like “cheers” and “bloody.” he also seemed to genuinely enjoy talking with the cast and crew as they slowly became used to being around him. turns out, you weren’t the only one intimidated by the movie star, and after it became clear that the strict rules came from his management and not george mackay himself, people began to relax around him.

he was also genuinely very nice. there was one time he helped the costume designer put labels on the costumes and organize them on the rack. another time, he managed to convince his personal assistant to run and grab coffee for some of the staff the morning after a particularly brutal night rehearsing. one time he even jammed a bit with some of the people in pit, and was apparently a  _ very _ good singer. and some curious part of you wished you could have been there to witness these things yourself, but you liked to hear the stories from the cast member’s mouths instead because,  _ really _ , you had  _ no business  _ being  _ anywhere _ near him.

but despite yourself, your crush deepened. you almost couldn’t help yourself - he had a natural charisma that attracted every person within a mile radius of him, and there was something very genuine about him. 

still, you couldn’t allow yourself to believe that you were special. besides, how many other cast and crew members did he interact with in any given day? you didn’t get  _ jealous _ per say - not even of anne, his on-stage wife, or of the others who openly flirted with him. you just had that constant feeling of  _ want _ and a desire to be in his presence, to be on the receiving end of his laughs and smiles. 

this is all probably why trey gave you a warning when he noticed you hesitating one night in the wings, watching them rehearse. you really were doing a good job staying away from him, but when you went to check on a malfunctioning prop, your gaze caught the scene unfolding onstage - which was a complete and total accident. george mackay was half dressed in only a robe, white t-shirt, and boxers - which, yeah, was a  _ little _ distracting - during a particularly emotional scene. you should have been given a damn medal because you managed to keep your eyes from straying too far off his face. 

you happened to catch him as he gave a moving monologue recalling the unspeakable, sinister force on the horizon, and his wife crying in the corner. he ran his hands through his messy hair, tugging it and sounding on the verge of tears. you were utterly trapped, your eyes fixated on him as the very words you’ve read and memorized for years flew out of his mouth in desperate pleas and prayers. despite yourself, despite everything you’ve done to protect yourself, your guard crumpled and your heart felt like it was going to swell out of your chest as he completely lost himself in his role.

you had no idea how long you stood there, staring, when trey suddenly appeared next to you, the expression on his face obvious. “my office. now.”

you followed him as he marched off stage, your tail between your legs. when he closed the door behind you, he shook his head. 

“absolutely  _ not _ ,” trey groaned. “i can’t believe it. what,  _ you _ , too!?”

"it’s nothing,” you said, fumbling for words that even sounded false to your ears. “you know how much i love this book - i just wanted to see how it’s going so far. and he’s talented! what, i can’t watch it?”

“that’s not what i’m talking about, and you know it.” he took in a deep breath, running a hand over his face. “i saw the look in your eye. you know what’s at stake - this is the best thing that has happened for us in years and whatever  _ this _ is - ” he gestured wildly at you “ - would only hurt us -  _ not _ him. and if  _ you _ of all people have a crush on the guy, then i really know all hope is lost.”

“i don’t have a  _ crush...! _ ” you defended, your voice a bit higher than usual. he gave you a look and you blushed. “okay, okay, so what if i do! it’s not like it’s doing any harm - you’re being dramatic. anyways, you know how he is - he’s charming the pants off of everyone here. i doubt i’m the only one who has a crush on him.”

“that’s the thing,” he said, shaking his head again. “ _ you’re _ the only one he’s talks about. what, you think people didn’t notice?” he asked as you gaped wide-eyed at him. “he asks everyone about you - the conductor, the janitors, the cast members, even  _ me _ . don’t tell me you didn't know?”

once again, you felt like you’d been transported into an alternate reality. how long has this even been going on?! and no one told you? was that why the cast talked about him so much around you...? no way. trey  _ had _ to be exaggerating. there was no way  _ george mackay _ was asking around about  _ you -  _ you’d barely even  _ talked _ to the guy! _ - _ and you told trey as much.

“well, he  _ is _ ,” he said with finality. “listen, i need you to be a team player. don’t talk to him, don’t look at him, don’t even  _ think _ about him,” he warned, wagging his finger in your face.

you rolled your eyes. “that’s impossible - ”

“and don’t let this change you,” he interrupted, walking away. “you don’t normally have googely-eyes for someone, so don’t let it get to your head. keep it in perspective - this isn’t fucking  _ notting hill _ . i’m counting on you to get over it soon.”

you weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended or not, so you just rolled your eyes again as he flashed you a sarcastic, strained smile. but as soon as he was out of sight, you deflated into his seat. your hand flew to your forehead - your face was burning and your hands were shaking.  _ it wasn’t a big deal, it was  _ **_not_ ** _.  _ trey was just stressed about the play and was making it a bigger deal than it really was. but regardless of whether he was being dramatic, if george mackay really was asking people about you, you had to wonder... _ why? _

it was true that you don’t normally date, and your crushes tended to only last a few days until the person either moved on to another show or got hired somewhere else. it’s what it was like in showbiz. it was unusual for you to feel this way and trey had caught on. and if mackay himself noticed...? you didn’t even want to think about that. 

and trey was also right - you were a stagehand, but you were also someone that people depended on, someone who people looked to as being reliable. beyond that, you cared about this theatre and what happened to it. if you or -  _ god, you couldn’t even let yourself think about it _ \- george freaking mackay acted on your shared interest, it could only lead to disaster. 

and so you picked up an old prop pillow, buried your face in it, and screamed.

* * *

after that, you made sure to keep your distance. you stayed holed up in the workshop, making the other stagehands run your errands for you. you began to notice just how times people brought mackay up in conversation and tried to pretend like you weren’t interested, shrugging their comments off. that didn’t stop them, of course, from talking about him. and you  **really** hated the little jump your heart made when they said his name. even at home after a long day at work, you’d google him and clear your history immediately afterwards, feeling guilty. you’ve already watched two more of his other movies, and even watched  _ notting hill _ just to see if you could get over it (it didn’t work). the faster you got over your crush, the easier it would be - not that your heart cared at all. 

then it became even harder to avoid him, too. once the set pieces were finished and most of the props were done, maggie assigned you to work on the stage. she didn’t  _ directly _ mention mackay, but she did remind you to stay in your place and to try not to “fuck this up.” you rolled your eyes, but were too busy anyways to really put your attention on anything other than the show.

rehearsals were a whirlwind. you caught a glimpse of him every so often between the stage curtains or between his security guards, but you usually were so busy, you couldn’t stop to chat even if you wanted to. ( _ which you didn't. you did  _ **_not_ ** _.) _ but once roles were assigned for the most part, you stood offstage right, where you would be for most of the time. because of that, however, you were able to see and hear mackay from in the wings, his voice enough to make your whole body shiver. it was hard to avoid a man who was headlining the show, and whenever he caught you in the hallways or during a break, he would give you a polite smile, but would keep his distance. 

mackay’s talent was obvious; you recalled that some of the movies he’d been in were extremely well-received by critics, and for good reason. and even though you knew the book by heart, the stage adaptation was better than expected, partially because of how well he did in the role. while everyone on the cast was fantastic, he was clearly the strongest. you could imagine that most of the reviews you’d read about would be mostly about him - so the pressure on you and the staff was enormous. you still couldn’t resent him, though, even if maggie and the others worked you to the bone because of it.

one night, you were falling behind on your work, not because of anything you’ve done, but because you’ve been pulled in almost every direction by the other crew members. maggie wanted to strangle you when she found you with the costume designer, but couldn’t technically do anything about it since you were helping. trey pulled you aside afterwards to apologize and offered to let you come in later tomorrow afternoon if you stayed behind to help touch up some of the backdrops that one of the other stagehands messed up. you’d agree to almost anything if it meant free food or more sleep, and sleeping in after a week of working past midnight is exactly what you needed before you started to pull your hair out.

it was long after everyone else went home when you were finally done with patching up and painting the ripped corners of the backdrops. you re-rolled them, put them in a large bag, carrying them with you to the stage. yawning loudly, you stepped out into the empty stage - or what you thought was an empty stage.

first, you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw that some of the stage lights were still on. you mumbled to yourself about the fact that you’d have to go to run and turn them off now, when you heard a voice talking. no, not talking, but rehearsing. you hesitated, your grogginess fading as you realized who it was. you couldn’t see him, but you could hear mackay practicing a monologue that was towards the beginning of the play. he stopped and restarted the same few lines, using different tones and stressing different syllables each time. when his voice cracked in the middle of a line, and he muttered a loud “fucking  _ shit _ ” to himself.

you should leave - he obviously wanted to be left alone. but when you turned around, one of the large backdrops slipped out of the bag and thudded loudly onto the floor.  _ damn _ .

“who’s there?” mackay snapped immediately, his voice quick and sharp. before you even had time to pick the roll back up, he appeared and stood defensively between the curtains in stage left. he held something - the candelabra?! - over his head until he saw you, crouched down with your mouth open in surprise.

“ohmygodi’msosorry,” you said in a rush, a flicker of giddiness sparking within you despite yourself. holy shit, you’d really just scared george mackay.  _ you!  _

he froze a moment longer before he dropped his hand. the stage lights cast shadows on his face, his eyes shining as he blinked at you. “bloody hell, love, m’so sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you said, fighting to keep your nervous giggles down. “i’m sorry. i thought i was alone...” you set the bag down, the lights peaking between the curtains helping you find the fallen backdrop against the dark floor. you rerolled what came undone, bending your knees to help lift it back into the bag. you struggled a moment before his hands shot out to help you, and he set it back on top. 

standing up, you took a step back to create some distance between you two. “i feel so bad,” you said, feeling your anxiety return in full force. “i’m just dropping these off and then i’ll leave. i’m so sorry i interrupted you.”

he rubbed the back of his neck and took a step back in turn. “s’alright, i’m done anyways. m’sorry i almost clobbered you - i suppose we’re even now.”

you laughed at that. “yeah, that’s true.” you bent forward to pick up the straps of the bag when he grabbed them before you. 

“here, let me.” he hoisted it over one shoulder and you took a startled breathe in that you prayed he didn’t notice as he walked back towards the stage. your eyes couldn’t help but catch his muscles as they flexed under his shirt without even trying. you averted them quickly as you hurried after him.  _ so much for keeping your distance. _ “where d’you want these?” 

“um, over there - ” your voice cracked; you cleared your throat. “just over there, in the corner. they’ll know what to do in the morning.”

he nodded without another word and, with a soft grunt that made you weak in the knees, he set it down, the edge of the bag peaking out obviously. when he turned to you, you fought to keep your expression neutral, but knew it must have been plain on your face because he smiled at you. 

“thank you, again,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest and squinting up at him against the lights. 

“no worries,” he said, his smile cute and...awkward? was he nervous? you noticed him put his hands in his pockets and you fought a blush. he must have been shy about you catching him, you reasoned.

“i really do apologize,” you said again, “i didn’t see security - i would’ve left you alone if i knew you were out here.”

“oh, they aren’t here.” he smiled again when your eyebrows shot up, and ran a hand over the side of his hair. “i feel a little awkward about them being around. they’re good guys, they’re just doing their job, but i, uh...” he shrugged. “it’s carol’s call, not mine. but when she’s not around, i send them home. i assumed no one would be here at midnight to murder me while...” he laughed awkwardly. 

in this light, while on stage, you noticed the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled and felt a familiar flutter in your chest in response. looking at him, it was hard to picture the man before you is the same man on stage. there was a warmth to him that made your shoulders relax, even as your gut twisted with nerves. 

“well, you’re doing a fantastic job,” you said, the words falling out of you before you could catch them. “and watching you perform these last few weeks has been amazing. you’re playing a pretty divisive character, but i think you’re going to really nail it.”

he grinned. “thank you. this particular role has its challenges. i haven’t been on a stage in a while, so i feel a bit rusty. i sometimes like to practice here while no one is around, to really get a grip on the character.”

“i think what you have is great - i know it’s not original, but the character you play is one of my favorite literary characters ever,” you said, now totally blabbering his ear off. “it really feels like he represents the thoughts and feelings of the working class. the book adds in a bit more detail about his stagnant life, like his unemployment and his depression. i feel like that’s the only bad thing about the play that can make it less obvious to the audience about where he’s coming from, unless they’ve read the book before.” you shrug one shoulder self-consciously. 

but mackay cocked his head at you, his eyebrows furrowing. “really?” he asked.

“yeah,” you said, blushing. “i mean, i get it, it can be hard to include mental illness representation in a stage play. the nuance can sometimes be...lost in translation. but you kind of reminded me of that detail when i heard you rehearsing just now. the lines you were reading aren’t in the original book - they were added to gloss over the fact that he’s, well...suicidal.”

he looked at you for long a moment, something like curiosity dancing in his eyes. “huh. i hadn’t thought of it that way before…”

you felt a blush crawl up your neck. why were you acting like he can’t do his job correctly!  _ why did you have to say anything?! _ “oh, um, i’m sorry - i didn’t mean to - i don’t want to imply anything. it’s your character, of course, and the way you play him is absolutely wonderful - ”

“no, it’s alright, m’not offended,” he shook his head. “actually, that’s damn brilliant.”

_ what? _

“oh,” you said, completely stunned. “thanks.”

“can I borrow a pen?” he asked suddenly, walking closer to you. this was the closest he's been since that first time you two talked. 

his towering height combined with your utter shock at being called “brilliant” made you hesitate before pulling a pen out of your pocket. he brought it with him upstage until he picked up a script that was laying on the floor. he scribbled on it silently for a few moments as you stared openly at his back, watching the muscles under the shirt move. you didn’t have to imagine what he looked like underneath, having accidentally seen a picture of him online with his shirt off -  _ and swore to never browse through google images ever again -  _ but to see the kind of strength he had made you feel a little faint.

once he was done, he turned back to face you, the curious look still in his eyes. your breath caught in your throat as he walked back to you. “thank you,” he said, handing the pen over.

this time, your fingers briefly touched his. you blushed not only at the contact, but that some of the paint on your hand got on his fingers.

“oh, shoot, i’m sorry,” you said in a vain attempt to wipe your hands in a panic.

“s’alright,” he said softly as he took a handkerchief out of his pocket. despite yourself, you laughed at the sight. “what?” he asked with a smile.

“nothing, it’s just that...that’s so  _ british _ of you to have a handkerchief on you,” you giggled. george chuckled, tucking his script under his arm, and wiped his fingers with it. you tried not to watch too closely.

“well, they  _ do _ serve their purpose. here, let me.”

you extend your hand, thinking he’ll hand it to you, when he took your hand in his. your body jolted slightly at the touch, but he didn’t appear to notice as he firmly wiped the paint off your fingers. he used his other to hold your hand steady, and you could feel its warmth spread. the silence between you two was deafening as the heart beat in your ears drowned out everything else. he was so close, he blocked out some of the spotlight from your eyes, and you could see his eyebrows pull together as he concentrated on your thumb. 

when he was finished, he released your hand, now free of paint but the warmth lingering. the lights were really starting to make you sweat, or maybe it was your nerves, and you noticed his pale face started to flush when his eyes lingered on your face.

“your work reminds me of being onset with sam mendes.” 

_ well, that came out of nowhere _ . you blink, the name vaguely familiar. then it clicked - sam mendes was the director of 1917, the movie that shot mackay into stardom. the idea that you of all people working at a small theatre like this of all places could possibly remind him of a famous director was ludicrous. 

“oh, thank you,” you said, taken aback. “why do you - what makes you say that?”

he smiled kindly at you. “we had entire sets built months before shooting began while they were still scouting for locations. we practiced on stage a lot because sam really wanted the shots to be as perfect as possible. but i’d say that my favorite part of the entire process was rehearsing on that stage.” he gestured behind you and you look over your shoulder at the set pieces. “your work reminds me of that time.”

you doubt you’ve ever been given a compliment such as this in your entire life, and you just knew that he had no reason to lie to you. 

“oh, thank you,” your face flushed as you turned back to face him. “it’s not just me, though. i couldn’t do it all by myself.” 

“hmm, that’s true,” he nodded, “but they all follow your lead. everyone says what a great designer you are, and the proof is here. even the set designers credit you with a lot of the choices they made. you put in a lot of hard work and it shows.”

instead of thanking him again, you bite your lip and look away from the intensity of his eyes as they look down at you. there was something changing in the air between you two, something about this interaction that made your heart soar. “that time must have been pretty special to you, then, for you to remember it.”

he nodded in the corner of your eye. “i think about it often, yes.”

there was something about him that made you forget where you were and who you were with. it struck you how  _ normal _ it felt to talk to george, despite his fame and despite your status as only a stagehand. but he didn’t make you feel beneath him, and even more, there was an electricity that made you think...was there something more? 

you look curiously back up at him, and caught him staring at you. with a start, you realized that his hooded gaze was trained on your mouth.

feeling as if you’d been electrocuted, you take a hurried step back, your breath caught on your throat, and you nearly trip. george extended his hand out to try to catch you, but you manage to stay upright. 

“sorry, i’m fine,” you said, slightly breathless, feeling completely  _ mortified  _ at your reaction. a large part of you regretted breaking whatever tension that was just between you two, but you were too anxious to think about that for very long. because you had to have been totally misreading it, right? when you managed to look back up at him, he thankfully was no longer looking at your mouth, but back to your eyes, his blue eyes still much too close.

“how much longer d’you have here?” george asked, his eyes searching yours. realization smacked you across the head - of course! how blind could you be?

“oh, i didn’t realize - i’m done for the night,” you said in a hurry. “i'll let you get back to - ”

“s’alright, i’m heading out now, too, anyways,” he interrupted with a small smile. “it won’t do anyone any good if i keep going on like this, anyways. i can help you shut off these lights.”

your heart pounded in your chest at his smile. “could you plug in the ghost light? it should be in the corner on stage right. i’ll head up to the light board.” 

he nodded. he was the first to step away, his eyes already searching for the ghost light when you made your way off stage. you felt a mix of relief and regret follow you. you closed your eyes trying to take in a deep breath -  _ calm down _ . you didn’t realize how wobbly your legs were until you walked inside the control booth. 

once you were in the dark room, you forced yourself to take several deep breaths in and out.  _ he’ll probably be gone by the time you return, anyways. _ you peaked out onto the stage to see the ghost light out in the middle of it, george mackay’s head bent forward reading the script in his hands. an anxious feeling bubbled inside you and you forced yourself to keep it down -  _ focus _ . you turned the lights down until it was dark and did one last look around before leaving the booth. 

approaching center stage, you blinked against the ghost light. mackay was typing something on his phone until you stopped a few steps away from him, his gaze lifting to find yours.

“you really know how to do everything here,” he teased. the white light washed him out a bit, but you could still see the color lingering on his cheeks. he really was attractive - not like a lot of the movie stars teen girls screamed about or the ones that were on glossy magazines in grocery store lines. he had a certain look in his face like he was always observant, always thoughtful. the world jumped out at you then -  _ piercing _ . his eyes were piercing and they went straight through you.

“yeah, it’s a good thing that this is basically my dream job,” you said, your voice shaking a little. “it does kind of suck that they rely on me so much, though...” you shrugged half-heartedly. “like yesterday, the lighting designer needed help with the cue lights, which i knew nothing about, and spent half the time trying to decipher his chicken scratch... so that set me back,” you said with a small laugh.

he was quiet for a moment, before he cocked his head. “they need a stagehand do all of that that?”

“i’m a stagehand  _ technically _ \- they kind of just put me wherever they need me.” you shrugged. “this is a small theatre, so they can’t really...hire more hands until we know how this quarter ends for us.”

george nodded, his eyes unfocused as if he were lost in thought.

you felt another sinking feeling at the way you talked his ear off - it wasn’t as if he really cared about the stuff you worried about.  _ he was just being kind, _ you had to remain yourself.

you thought that once you left and came back, the tension on the stage would have disappeared. but it lingered in the space between you two and in his eyes as he hesitated by the ghost light. it cast a shadow on the side of his face, but his bright eyes seemed to darken.

“um, s-sorry, i don’t know when to shut up,” you said, your voice sounding far away. you tucked a strand of hair behind you ear. “i’m all done if you’re ready to - ”

“wait.” your eyes shot to his as he stared. “you have a bit of paint in y’hair again, love.” you couldn’t even think of a response before he took a step towards you, his eyes focused on the space by your ear. a mirror image of that first night you two met, except now in near darkness. and just like that, you were inches away from him again. he was so close you could see his eyelashes cast small shadows on his face.

you watched him raise a hand and curl his fingers over the curve of your ear. you inhaled sharply at the gentle touch, feeling the tip of his calloused finger brush your earlobe before he took the strand of hair and rubbed it between his fingers. his eyes hooded, he opened his mouth slightly as his eyes drifted down to your mouth and back again. 

“it’s dry,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“old paint,” you breathed. and then he kissed you.

or maybe you kissed him. you weren’t completely sure who started it - but as soon as your lips touched, you both sighed in relief. during those first wild seconds, your brain couldn’t process anything outside of the sensation of his mouth on yours or his hand cupping your jaw. he pressed his lips against yours gently, over and over again, testing the waters. you kissed him back hesitantly, feeling your heart in your throat. you both moved so painfully slow, your whole body felt like it was shaking. 

your mouths slowed down as george curled your hair back behind your ear and pressed his lips less and less firmly on yours until they were barely touching. when he leaned away, your eyes fluttered open to see him staring back at you, his face now very red. you were sure you looked similar.

a small giggle slipped from your lips just as he smiled, you two laughing quietly together. you pressed your lips together hoping to trap that feeling there. you wished you could stay like that and not have to worry about anything else outside that stage.

when he bent down again, you froze just before he touched his lips to yours. “wait.”

he paused, hovering close to your face. you could feel his hot breath wash over you.

“we shouldn’t,” you barely whispered.

he pulled back until he could look at you, his eyebrows furrowing together. “what?” his voice was still heady, but there was a tone of dismay in it.

“w-we shouldn’t do this,” you said, shaking your head. “it’s not a good idea.” you could already feel the panic rising and you tried to swallow the lump in our throat. he still had his freaking hand on your face, and you regretted saying anything, but it needed to be said. 

“oh.” his hand fell away from your face and returned to his side. “why not?”

you weighed whether to tell him or not. he liked you back, it was obvious, and now you could either push him away, or tell him the truth. 

you took an unsteady breath in.

“i know that you’ve been asking around about me,” you blurted out and bit your lip. his eyes widened but you went on. “word kind of got out, and um...they warned me to keep my distance. not just my managers, but others from your team, too. they gave me some projects to keep me busy. i’m...worried about how my theatre family might, um, respond to something like this. i don’t want to get anyone in trouble...” you drifted off, not sure what else you could say. but there it was, out in the open. 

george gaped at you silently for a moment before rubbing his hand over his face. “oh,  _ shit _ , m’so sorry.” he curled his fingers through his hair, looking away and out to the dark, empty audience. “i sometimes say things without thinking... i guess i never assumed people would notice...i just, i was curious about you and wanted to learn more about the mysterious stagehand.” he turned back to face you. “but i can promise you, you won’t get in trouble because of me. i jus’...i really like you. and every time i come in, i look forward to seeing you. i’ve felt this attraction towards you since we first met that i can’t shake, and i’d hoped it wasn’t one-sided...”

you shouldn’t have been shocked by what he told you, but you were anyways. he not only gave you a kiss, but a whole damn  _ confession _ . he wasn’t leading you on - his feelings for you were actually  _ genuine _ . he looked at you again with those piercing eyes and there was a vulnerability there that drew you to him, to be close to him. you take a step forward to close the distance between you two. 

“it’s not one-sided,” you whispered. 

the desire from earlier returned and one side of his mouth went up before he leaned towards you so your faces were level. “can i?” he asked, his voice so soft, you barely heard it. you nodded.

his gaze fell back on your lips, and you were so close to him, you could feel his body heat. he lifted one hand to press against your cheek again, and you inhale softly at the contact. your lips opened slightly, and george moved at the invitation to press his mouth against yours. 

this time, it was like a fire lit within you and you embraced the risk, not caring if someone were to catch you, or if you got in trouble. the feeling of his mouth on yours was indescribable as he melted into you, his lips hot and wet against yours. your hands reached for his strong forearms and dragged up his biceps to his chest. he shivered at your touches as you ran your hands over his taut muscles. 

his mouth was molten lava against yours, his tongue touching your bottom lip briefly before sliding between your open lips. you shuddered as your tongues made contact, and returned the favor. you were rewarded with the smallest groan leaving his mouth, and the sound made your stomach clench. one of his arms dropped to circle around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, and you had to stand on the tips of your toes to keep from falling over. george was a good support, barely moving as you leaned into him and felt his breath quicken. yours was sharper, too, and you began to feel light-headed. 

breaking away, you took a shuddering breath in just as he bent down to kiss underneath your ear. he moved his other hand from your face to slide down your side, gripping your hip tightly with one hand. goosebumps appeared over your entire body as he gave you wet, open mouth kisses up and down your neck. you felt your whole body get heavy, lost between wanting to kiss him again and for him to continue down the rest of your body. 

his thumbs caressed the skin that peaked out from the edge of your shirt and it took every once of willpower you had to not rip your shirt off on the middle of the stage. your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as he made another pass over your skin with his mouth, huffing unevenly into you. your whole body shivered at your neck exposed to the air, and you took a fistful of his hair to tug him back to your mouth. 

he reacted instantly, his mouth diving for yours in an instant, the force of it nearly knocking you back. you gasped when he tugged you back to him, but in his haste, he backed into the ghost light behind him. the light wobbled with the force until, in a dramatic arch, it fell and landed on the stage with a loud  _ crash! _

“oh, shit,” he said at the noise, pulling away from you.

you cringed at the crash, but when you peaked at it, you could still see the white light still shined from behind him. george looked over his shoulder, his hands still on you. from your angle, you could see the wildness of his hair mussed around his head, and the whole situation made another laugh fall from your mouth.

“oh, my god,” you said, laughing so hard, your body was shaking. george looked down at you, laughing in return. he pressed one more kiss on your lips before turning around to pick it back up. you shivered at the coldness from his lost touch. watching him struggle to move the ghost light upright again, you ran your fingers over your lips.

“we should probably go - we’re getting a bit dangerous,” he said, turning to you with a cheeky smile. 

you nodded, suddenly feeling shy. you couldn’t believe those same lips had been all over your neck just moments ago, or that your hands had touched every inch of his arms and chest. 

“yeah, probably,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. you could still feel the imprint of his kiss on your mouth.

george ran his hand through his hair, taming some the wildness you caused, and cleared his throat. “um...what have you got going after this?”

you shrugged one shoulder, your eyes darting to the stage floor. “i’m just going home... why?” 

“i was wondering...if you’d join me for dinner tonight?” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously. 

you just made out with him twice, so there was no going back now - and it was obvious that he felt the same way about you that you felt about him. it wasn’t just his words, but the emotions he conveyed with his mouth, his eyes, his hands. which all together ultimately made you think, _ fuck it, you only live once _ . 

you but your lip. “i have some drinks at my apartment, if you want to join me...?” 

_ wow, you really just said that. you just invited george mackay to your place. _ but your words had the desired effect as he smirked at you.

“let’s get out of here, then,” he said, reaching for your hand. he rubbed a thumb over your knuckles. 

you walked off the stage, tugging him behind you. “let me get my coat.”

once you two stepped outside, you shivered as you locked the door. george had taken every opportunity to pull you into a kiss, never straying far from you as he kissed your hand or your mouth. but as soon as you felt the chilly air outside, your shyness returned as you talked little. he wore a thick beanie pulled over his ears and a heavy coat, yet still managed to look completely sexy. you really couldn’t believe it - this was really happening. 

“d’you have a ride?” he asked as you two stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the theatre building. his breath fogged around his face, the air making his nose bright red. “i usually take an uber.”

“i take the bus - it’s safe, i promise,” you said when he looked slightly alarmed, “i do it by myself all the time. besides, i have my mace on me.” you flash it before sticking it back in your pocket.

george smiled softly. "well, i’ll order a uber. my treat - i don’t want the other patrons to make comments about your neck.”

your hand flew to it, your eyes wide. “there aren’t,” you said, but reached for your phone before he could reply. when you opened the front camera, you angled it to your neck and saw the small marks there - one in particular by your collar bone that was definitely going to bruise.

“m’so sorry,” he said, his face a fiery red. “i didn’t realize i left those until we stepped outside, truly, i didn’t mean to do that t’your neck - ”

“it’s okay,” you said, unable to return his gaze as you blushed. and if you were being honest, the fact that he did that  _ did things _ to you. you obviously couldn’t kiss him right there, so you had to distract yourself. “i can cover it with makeup.” 

he untucked the wool scarf from around his neck. “you could wear this,” he said, handing it to you.

you wrapped it around your neck, feeling the heat from his body linger in the cloth. a subtle scent drifted to your nose, too, and you had to fight the urge to press it against your face and breath it in. it smelled like some type of soap, woodsy and warm, and it made you smile.

“thank you,” you said shyly. 

as george found a ride, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking for anyone who might be watching you two. the streets were practically empty this late at night except for a few people milling about absorbed in their own conversations. george wasn’t wearing the stereotypical sunglasses or baseball hat that you’ve seen other actors wear - he mostly kept his eyes from wandering too far. your emotions battling for dominance inside your brain, switching from euphoria to anxiety and back, as his thumb continued to rub across your knuckles.

“here it comes,” george nodded at a car as it pulled up, rolling its window down. 

“andrew?” the driver called, and george nodded. 

he opened the back door for you and he followed inside after you. you buckled as the car pulled away, and george immediately put his hand on your knee. the size difference between your thigh and his hand made it difficult to drag your eyes away from as you noticed the veins. his thumb rubbed the outside of your knee slowly as he talked with the driver nonchalantly, the ministrations driving you crazy as it sent a direct line right to the apex of your legs. 

“andrew” - which you realized was george’s middle name he used to keep a low profile - told him that you two were in town to see a play showing at the local theatre. you blushed when he said it was an anniversary date, and you rolled your eyes when george smiled over at you. 

when you stepped into your apartment and flicked on the light, your eyes immediately searched for anything embarrassing that would be out in the open - like a bra or trash on the coffee table. you thanked your past self for doing the laundry last night so it wasn’t piled up in a corner somewhere, and you locked the door behind george as he stepped inside. you wondered what he saw through his eyes and worried that it was too messy or too girly for his tastes. but after he shrugged off his coat and beanie, his eyes didn’t do much more than an initial sweep through before landing on yours.

“it’s a little messy,” you blurted. 

his lips twitched playfully. “m’not judging, love.” 

“do you want something to drink?” you said, your heart in your throat as you hung your coats up. you kicked off your shoes and set them beside his, avoiding his eyes. 

he tapped his chin. “hm...surprise me.” 

now that you were in your apartment, the realization of what you were doing dawned on you as you walked past the living room into the kitchen. you’d managed to make out with  _ george mackay  _ and then take him  _ home _ \- all in one night. the excitement began to fade as you inspected the living area with a more critical eye - noticing an unfolded blanket thrown on the couch and a few dirty dishes in the sink. you couldn’t make yourself turn around to see what he was looking at as he followed you, and could only hope that he didn’t think you were a  _ total _ slob. you opened the fridge and frowned down at your poor selection - something told you george wasn’t a mike’s hard lemonade kind of guy - before you remembered some wine you’d been gifted a few months back that wasn’t your favorite kind, but you weren’t one to turn down alcohol. 

“i don’t really have dinner, per say, but... how do you feel about...wine?” you asked, wiping the dust off with a towel.  _ good thing wine never goes bad _ .

“wine’s good. d’you need help with that?” you handed him the bottle and corkscrew, and within a minute, opened it with a _ pop! _ you gave him a round of applause as he bowed, and you reached for two wine glasses hidden in the back of the cupboard. 

“sorry, they’re from, um, a bachelorette party,” you mumbled awkwardly, blushing as you handed one off to him. “they’re the only wine glasses i have...” 

he cocked an eyebrow as he raised the glass to you, the words  _ “same penis forever” _ written in pink glittery cursive on the side. maybe the mike’s would’ve been better. “oh, i’d just assumed this was something you’d buy,” he said with a mock-serious look. 

you laughed and rolled your eyes as you poured the drinks. you were painfully aware how close he stood, practically at your shoulder. “well, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.” 

you handed one over to george, and he leaned against the opposite counter, and with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair slightly wind-tossed, he’d be sexy as hell if he wasn't drinking from that completely ridiculous wineglass. well, scratch that, he was still sexy, but you couldn’t keep yourself from laughing at him as he drank from it as if it was totally normal. he winked at you and you blushed.

you took a deep drink from your glass and tried to think of something to talk about when george spoke.

“so...y’said this was your dream job?” you tried not to pay too close attention on his mouth as he took a sip or the way he held his drink. “how long have you been working there?”

you start to talk about your work, going back to tell him a bit of your life growing up. he told you about himself, and you were happy that there were things about him that couldn’t be found online. it was more enjoyable to hear about his life from george himself, and the more you two spoke, the more he shared with you. he was just as in love with theatre as you were, with a both of his parents in the business, and he told you a few funny stories from growing up, running around on stage as a little kid. 

“my trouble-making ways helped me in the end,” he said with a laugh, shaking his head. “my mum  _ begged _ the director to let me be in the ensemble so she wouldn’t have to hire a babysitter. i guess it worked out because i fell in love with it.”

you cringed, and you told him about a prank a child actor pulled on your college theatre director sophomore year. “seems like something  _ i’d _ do!” he said with a laugh.

you both remained in the kitchen, leaning against opposite counters and swapping stories. neither of you brought up the kisses, and you weren’t entirely sure if it was going to happen again. but it was as if an invisible line separated the friendly conversation in the kitchen from the unknown in the living room. you couldn’t imagine sitting down on the couch with him, or dwell on what might or might not happen. you were warm and comfortable around him, but felt a little shiver run up your spine whenever his gaze lingered. you caught him glancing down at your neck quite a few times and you tried to act like you didn’t notice, but you couldn’t lie to yourself that you didn’t like it. 

you told him some personal things about your life, and a few mundane things like your favorite movie and color. he strayed away from talking about the movies he was in - preferring to talk about his family and friends, which you didn’t mind - but after a while, he told you a funny story involving himself and fellow actor dean-charles chapman while onset together for 1917. when he talked about his work, you could tell he really cared about it.

“that’s why i missed doing theatre so much. being in front of the camera after months of prepping t’just nail a scene so perfectly...” he shook his head. “i really fuckin’ love that.”

you raised your eyebrows. “but...?”

he smirked at you softly. “ _ but _ , i do love that sense of spontaneity being on stage gives me. and i’ve missed feeling the energy from the audience - it’s nice to see people respond in real time.” he ran a free hand through his hair. “and it helps when the stagehands are cute.”

you rolled your eyes at his cheesiness but suppressed a grin at his words.  _ cute? _ you swirled the last of your wine around the bottom of your glass. “it doesn’t distract you?”

“mmm, maybe it distracts me a little.”

you tilted your head to the side. “is that what you say to all the stagehands?” 

“i don’t normally kiss the stagehands.” your eyes shot up at his words and saw him staring at your lips again. 

“and i don’t usually kiss the actors,” you said. “even if they’re cute.”

george laughed at that, shaking his head as he passed the empty wineglass back and forth, dwarfing it between his large hands. you imagined those hands back on your body, and you drank the last of your wine. it had given you a buzz that took the edge off, but you felt more giddy than tipsy. you didn’t want to get drunk; you wanted to be completely present and aware of yourself. 

you sensed that he was thinking about something by the way he furrowed his brow before he suddenly pushed himself off the counter and closed the distance between you two. your heart leapt as he leaned in close, his body inches from you, and set the glass on the counter directly behind you. when he spoke, his mouth was at your ear. “so does that mean you wouldn’t kiss me again?”

you shivered at his mouth so close to you and run a thumb over the lip of your glass nervously. you were at eye level with his neck and could see the veins under his pale skin, and his woodsy scent enveloped around you. 

“um, not necessarily.” you bit your lip. “i haven’t decided yet.” 

“haven’t decided, huh?” he said, his voice a touch deeper. he leaned back away from your ear.

you shook your head slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. during your earlier conversation, it was easy to ignore your body’s reaction to him. but now, you couldn’t control it even if you tried, and the tension between you two made you tense. 

george put both of his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you on the counter. 

“well,” he said, inching closer, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “that’s too bad, ‘cause i really wanted to kiss you again.”

you cocked an eyebrow cheekily up at him. “are you sure it’s not just the wine talking?”

“no. ‘fit was the wine, i’d be talking about much more than just kissing you.” you swallowed at his words. “be showing m’hand too early.”

“oh,” you breathed, your grip tensing around the wine glass, at a loss for words. the word  _ hand _ jumped out at you, and you imagined what it would feel like to have his all over your body. again. “maybe you could...refresh my memory?” 

it was so cheesy - definitely not as suave as you could’ve been - but it did the trick. as if he could read your mind, he lifted one of his hands and ran his fingers over your jaw before cupping your cheek. your breath caught in your throat at the touch, and before your eyes could flutter close, his mouth was on you.

the relief you felt fizzled immediately as a new sense of urgency lit inside your body. his mouth opened to welcome your tongue, his hot and heavy. you felt him press his body up against yours, the lean muscles of his torso against you making you press eagerly into him, the wineglass cutting between you.

picking it out of your grasp, he brushed his fingertips across the back of your hand. “be a shame for this t’break,” he mumbled against your mouth.

you nodded as he set it behind you. “i-it’s a collector’s item.”

he smirked in reply but didn’t laugh. he leaned back slightly to look at you and his hand returned beside you. his lips were parted and slightly wet. you felt his nose brush against yours, your lips running together with a feather-like touch as his eyes gazed down, and you were so close, you could see his light-colored eyelashes. 

george standing in your kitchen in front of you with his dark eyes looking down at you made you pulse all over, the source of that familiar feeling of unabated  _ want _ from between your legs. as if he could read your mind, he inched forward until his knee was between your legs, and your legs parted naturally around it. your breath caught in your throat as he trailed his fingers over your side, one hand still braced behind you, before he finally gripped your hip. 

he moaned softly when you put your hand on his shoulder for leverage and pushed yourself up to close the distance. there was no playfulness this time as he kissed you, his mouth moving against you with a driven force that took the breath right out of you. you barely cared that your lower back dug into the counter behind you as he pushed his body against yours, your fingers threading through his hair. when his fingers brushed a stretch of skin exposed by your hiked-up shirt, you pushed him just far enough away so you could rip it over your head - not even long enough to miss the heat of his body before he was on you again. 

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of you as both of his hands roamed your back, your sides, up to your shoulders and down, just lightly brushing over your bra-clad breasts. you didn’t even have enough time to be shy of your body - to even wonder if this was even going where you thought it was going - before he pulled his own shirt off. you couldn’t even admire him before both of his hands cupped the sides of your face, pulling you into a deep kiss that made your knees nearly buckle. 

greedily feeling his chest and abs under your hands, you felt a sense of bashfulness return to you. it was different seeing pictures of him online versus  _ feeling _ him in real life, and you weren’t sure what kind of crazy actor work-out he had to do, but he  **definitely** got his money’s worth. 

when he pulled you from the kitchen, you stumbled after him, dazed as if you really were drunk, until you made it into the living room. it was half-lit, the only lights streaming in from the kitchen, and it cast a moody warm glow on the furniture and your bodies. he slowly sat down on your couch, his legs slightly spread and your eyes roved over him a moment, an uncontrollable smile spread across your face. 

“bloody hell,” he mumbled as he looked you up and down, “you’re fuckin’ stunning.”

you reached for your bra clasps and unclipped them, letting your straps slip slowly down your shoulders a moment before tossing it off. he paid rapt attention to your movements, appearing to hold his breath, until your entire upper half was exposed to him. he bit the corner of his lip, watching you slide between his legs and climb slowly onto his lap, straddling him. 

george had his eyes still trained on your breasts when you placed a hand on his wide chest. “hey, eyes up here - ” you joked and a smile barely touched his lips before he was kissing you again. 

his hands held fast to your hips and slowly slid down to your ass. as if your body was acting on its own, your hips began to move, rocking as if you could make the clothing that separated you two disappear by will alone. 

his body responded in turn and began grinding against you, and you risked a small bite on his bottom lip, the faintest groan leaving his chest. your skin prickled at the sound, and you pressed your body so close to him, your chests touched. when your nipples dragged over his skin, he groaned again, one of his hands now at your breast and you jolted slightly at the touch. he weighed it in his hand a moment before dragging a calloused thumb over the nipple, circling the areola and your grip on his shoulders tightening. when you bit his bottom lip again, a little harder this time, he pushed his tongue in your mouth before leaning away. 

your whine of protest died when he bent his head down to kiss your breasts, sucking the skin there. your hands gripped his hair and you ground yourself on him. george’s breathes were hot when he breathed warm air on your wet skin and a loud moan slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. an embarrassed giggle left you and you had to hide another moan when his tongue flicked against your nipples, traveling across one breast while fondling the other. he took his time traveling up your chest and to the side of your neck.

“i’ll go easy on your neck this time, love,” he said, his voice so low and gravely, he sounded like a different person. he placed lingering kisses at your collarbone, making you buck in his lap. when he leaned forward again, he kissed your cheek then traveled down to the corner of your mouth, one of his hands leaving your breasts to travel down your abdomen. “this okay?”

you tilted your head and caught his lips a moment before stuttering out a quick, “yes. p- _ please _ \- i need you - ”

he suddenly hugged you against his body and rolled so that your back was on the couch, george above you. you saw that he was fiddling with his belt buckle and you lurched forward to plant sloppy kisses on his neck and cheeks - anything your mouth could reach - your hands tugging your own pants down to join his. when you were both left in only your underwear, he pressed his body down on yours and you instantly wrapped your legs around his hips.

his hair fell over his eyes and you pushed it out of his face with a laugh, tugging him down to kiss you. he braced himself above you and it was then that you really noticed how hard he was - you nearly gasped,  _ though what were expecting when he was basically trying to fuck you through your panties? _ you both moaned when the head hit your center just right and he ground himself into you slower, dragging himself against you in a way that made your toes curl.

with one hand bracing himself to keep from crushing you - not that you’d mind - he moved one down between your bodies and your breath caught when they tugged against the seam. “still okay?” he choked out, his face bright red and hair wild and eyes so dark, they made your heart stutter.

you nodded eagerly - perhaps a bit too eager because he laughed down at you. but when he ducked his hand under the elastic band, you froze until his fingers brushed against your mound and slipped between your folds. 

"o-oh  _ god _ ,” you moaned the same time he hissed against your skin, “bloody  _ fuckin _ ’ hell - y’gonna  _ kill _ me - ”

the hands that you’ve been so obsessed with for weeks felt exactly as fantastic as you thought they would, feeling them touching you so gently that it made your heart melt while also driving you up a damn wall. two fingers slid against your labias, carefully avoiding your clit as he ran them up one side and down the other, the touches  _ so _ tender. he kissed your lips just as tenderly as he brushed against your clitoral hood and applied enough pressure to make your hips buck. he smiled at that but it quickly vanished when he rubbed it in time with your movements, dipping to your opening to gather some of your wetness. 

_ and he wasn’t even fucking inside of you yet. _ you were caught between begging him to finger you and begging him to not stop what he was doing. when he started to rub the clit itself, the whine you couldn’t suppress any longer slipped out and you both started to breath heavier, your foreheads touching but your eyes shut tight against the stimulation. you angled your hips and he thankfully got the hint, and his hand slid down to your opening. when he finally slid one finger in, your head fell back on the couch pillow beneath you. 

it didn’t take long for him to slip another finger inside of you and you rocked your hips to meet his hand. but even with his mouth on your breast and fingers inside of you, you couldn’t ignore his hard length pressed against your thigh. you reached for him blindly, your hand sliding against his abs down to his briefs. you wasted no time slipping your hand inside and as soon as your hand circled his cock and squeezed, he bowed his back and moaned into the cousins behind you. biting back a grin of satisfaction, you pumped him as he rocked forward, feeling his hand speeding up in time with yours. you felt your vagina grip his fingers, begging for more, and when his cock twitched in your hand, you squirmed.

“condom - ” you choked out, bracing to rip yourself out from under his warm embrace to go get one when he tightened his hold. you felt him dip to the side, forcing you to release your grip, and you watched him palm the clothes on the floor wildly until he found his pants, digging into his front pocket until he produced a square wrap. 

“i hope y’don’t mind. i stole it from your washroom,” he mumbled into your ear, his cheek pressed against yours. 

you laughed breathlessly. “wh-what, are you going to go through my panty drawer next?”

“if y’offering.” he laughed at the expression on your face. then, before he opened the package, he lifted the hand that was inside you and brought the two fingers to his lips. your jaw dropped when he put them in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked your precum off of them, all while maintaining direct eye contact with you. 

you vaulted your body forward before they were even out of his mouth and took his face in both of your hands. “if you’re not inside of me soon, i’m going to  _ explode _ .”

“s’that a challenge?” he joked, but his expression was intense as he looked back at you, as if he wanted to go for another taste. but he must have been over the teasing too, because he quickly ripped the package open and pushed off his briefs. your eyes soaked him in and he caught you staring with a wink. he grabbed his cock and began rolling the condom down his length. “an’if you don’t take off those panties,  _ i’m _ going to rip them off of you.”

you don’t think a sexier sentence has ever been said, and so you fall back down on the couch and quickly shimmy your hips out of them. he jerked himself as he watched you and you admired the view of him sitting on his knees over you, his body all taut muscle and sweaty skin. “ _ fuuuck _ ,” he drew out in a long groan that made your whole body buzz.

“well, that’s the point -  _ hhmmm _ ,” you curled your fingers back through his hair as he settled on top of you, his lips back on yours, completely devouring you. this time when the head of his cock rocked and teased against your opening, a bolt of electricity shot through you. holy shit, this was really going to happen.

“ _ please _ ,” you begged into his mouth and he moaned against you, lining up at your entrance. 

you both held your breath and for a moment, you thought he’d push in until he leaned back. you stared up at him looking down at you, his eyes hooded. he cupped your face with his free hand and pressed a short kiss on your lips before pressing your foreheads together. this purely intimate moment made your heart swell, and for a moment you were terrified you’d start  _ crying _ \- until he pushed his hips forward and his cock entered you slowly, stretching you in a way that made your entire body shudder.

when he sank fully into you, you both let out a noise of complete and utter satisfaction. it surprised you how big he was, and it took a moment for you to adjust yourself to him. he could feel the resistance, and peppered your face with small kisses, waiting until you gave the go ahead. when you wrapped your legs back around him and started rocking your hips, he began to move on top of you. 

the feeling of fullness you felt, as if you’d never felt his complete in your life, made you utterly  _ euphoric _ . you could tell george felt the same way while he muttered your name into your shoulder like it was a prayer, peppering it with kisses. you rolled your hips in time, feeling him going in and out and moaning when he went nearly completely out before pushing slowly back into you, making you think you’ll  _ die _ if he ever left your body. 

you both began to pick up the pace naturally until he swiveled his hips with a quick snap, and you choked out a gasp at the feeling that flooded your entire body. he looked down at you but the expression on your face must have told him everything because he did it again, and again. you reached up to find purchase on his shoulders and dug your nails into him. his hands slid from your sides down to your thighs, then hiked your legs under his shoulders. at this new angle, you moaned loudly - not caring who heard as he fucked you into the couch.

just when your lower back began to cramp, george leaned back. the cold air rushed over your exposed skin, your nipples puckering as he sat back on his knees, your legs still over his shoulders. he rubbed your thighs, warming them with his large hands. the light from the kitchen cast a warm glow on the side of his face and you could see his hair stick to his forehead and temples. you moved to push it out of his eyes when he pushed you back down with a soft  _ oof _ , his hand cupping your tit as he started to fuck deeply into you again. you laid back, enjoying the view as he smirked down at you. but it wasn’t long before he ground into you, his pace quickening and his fingers digging in your thighs, and that familiar tightness began to coil inside you. 

“g- _ george _ ,” you whispered and something about the lilt in your voice made him drive into you fast and hard, changing the angle so that he hit so deep inside you all you could do was moan. and when one of his hands left your thigh and met where your bodies joined, his fingers pressing against your clit, you knew it was only a matter of seconds. “i - i’m about to - ”

“ _ fuck _ ,” he hissed, speeding up and suddenly it was all too much - george looking down at you with adoration and his cock pumping in and out of you and his fingers sliding against your clit - and it felt like a rubber band snapped within you, all the tension coiled inside releasing in the sweetest way. your entire body pulsed around him, gripping him closer to you as he moaned at the sight, transfixed.

“m’g-gonna cum,” he stuttered - now the number one sexiest thing he’d ever said - and he buried his face into your neck, shuddering above you. when he stopped, he stayed there, both of you breathing hard. he didn’t immediately slip out of you, only released your legs so that they fell beside him, and he circled you into a hug, your shivering bodies pressed together. you wished you never had to get out of this couch, and you almost fell asleep right then and there until he began leaving small pecks on your neck.

your face broke into a smile, your stomach somersaulting as the realization of what you did dawned on you. neither of you wanted to be the first to break the silence as he continued to kiss you, and you got the feeling that he was hiding his face because he was...shy?

you bit your lip. “um...” you giggled awkwardly. “do you want to stay the night?” 

he lifted his head at that to quirked an eyebrow at you. “y’offering?” his voice was still laced with post-sex huskiness that made your core tighten, but you just nodded. a slow grin spread over his face. “yeah...yeah, that’d be great.”

you felt him slip out of you then and you missed the feeling almost immediately, but the utter satisfaction you felt couldn’t be understated. you stretched out under him and his eyes dragged over you. you blushed, turning your face away from him.

"d’ya wanna jump into the shower with me?” he asked, kissing your cheek. you nodded into the pillow and when he pushed himself off, you followed him with your eyes. extending his hand out to you, you take it, and you didn’t realize how badly your legs were shaking until you stood in front of him. 

but before you could say anything, he leaned down to kiss you. his lips had lost the heat from earlier, but none of the passion as he slipped a tongue coyly between your lips before leaning away. 

“better be careful,” you said, your voice thick, “or i’m going to want a round two.”

you said this mostly in jest, but he smirked at you. “i wouldn’t mind.” 

you swallowed your words as you pressed your lips together, and he took your hand, leading you to the bathroom. you both blinked at the harsh bathroom lightand you walked in ahead of him, fumbling for two towels. you tried to hand him a fluffy pink one, but his eyes were dragging over your body, completely naked in front of him. you fought the urge to cover yourself - he’d already had sex with you, but that was in the near-dark, and you were still shy around him. you cleared your throat and he looked back up with a smirk.

“ _ you’re _ the one who wanted t’share a shower,” he said.

“only to make sure you don’t steal any more of my condoms,” you retorted, leaning into the shower to turn on the hot water. you felt his hand reach for your ass, barely grazing one cheek before giving it a sudden  _ smack! _

you twisted around immediately, gapping up at him as he looked sheepishly back at you. “george!” you snapped, your face on fire.

“be a bit dangerous t’do that in the shower,” he said, completely ignoring your shout. then he leaned forward and wagged his eyebrows. “’sides, if we continue in the bedroom, i’d want my face t’be between your thighs next time.”

you blushed but he didn’t continue, only stepped into the shower. “come’n - m’overwhelmed with choices, love, and i don’t want to pick the wrong bottle.”

when you stepped in after him and showed him which ones he can use -  _ “ as long as you don’t mind smelling like flowers” “ i wouldn’t mind smellin’ like  _ **_you_ ** _ ” _ \- you both took your time washing each other's bodies, your hands lingering as you explored. george didn’t get hard again, but that didn’t keep his hands from wandering. washing his hair was your favorite part, but you felt bad when you got soap in his eyes. he still let you rinse it out, saying he didn’t mind because he loved feeling your fingers against his scalp. as you both dried, you let him borrow one of your largest pairs of shorts and blushed at the way it hung low and tight on his hips. that combined with his damp, wild hair and flush skin, you couldn’t wait to climb into bed with him.

still, you tried to ignore what would happen tomorrow. the two of you danced around work, not bringing up you’d both to do in the morning, and you couldn’t keep away the sinking feeling that this might have just been... _ it _ . no matter how wonderful this was between you two, it very well could have just been a one-and-done for him. he was the same actor who probably had ten girlfriends on speed dial - you had no idea what this might have meant to him. but you couldn’t deny what it meant to you. you felt sexy and desired and respected, and you wanted to feel that again -  _ with him _ \- but wouldn’t dare say that to him. the last thing you wanted was to be rejected, and so you kept it to yourself as you two climbed into your bed, curling your bodies together under the covers.

you both remained silent, and you thought that he might have fallen asleep when he suddenly moved away, propping his head on his hand. he looked down at you with hooded eyes. “um...i - i, uh, know we’ll both be busy for a while, but if you’re free... i’d like t’take you out.” he cleared his throat. “if you want.”

you completely froze.  _ he couldn't mean...  _

“o-oh,” you blinked before gesturing between your bodies. “you mean, like here? again...?”

he nodded once before shaking his head. “oh, no - well, i meant like, uh, like a date,” he said, “ a  _ proper _ date.” his eyes studied you carefully as his cheeks burned. you were sure you looked similar, your face on fire as you stared at him. 

a  _ date? _ you blinked. “like...dinner and a movie?”

you felt childish saying that, but he nodded again, completely serious.

all the questions you had over the past few weeks flooded back, and you decided that -  _ fuck it _ \- you could always blame the alcohol tomorrow. “um...c-can i be honest for a second?” you asked, your voice noticeably hoarse. 

“absolutely, love,” he said a nervous lift in his voice. the fear in his eyes was enough to almost make you kiss him again, but you knew that if you didn’t say it now, you’d lose your nerve. so you take a breath to try to steady yourself. 

“it’s just that, this is all new to me.” you swallowed. “i don’t normally...date my...colleagues. not saying that’s what going to happen, of course, or that we have to have any labels - because we definitely don’t. i’m just - it’s just -” you took a deep breath, thankful that he hadn’t interrupt yet. “i’m worried about how my theatre family might, um, respond to it. and the media, too, i guess, if it, um, comes to that?” he stared back at you silently, a touch of humor now in his eyes. you laugh at yourself, sure that you sounded ridiculous but you had to get it all out before you lost your opportunity. 

“it’s not that i’m not interested,” you continued, sure that your heart was going to self-destruct at any moment, “i really do actually like you, and i like getting to know you. but i’m just not sure...how to really go about this.”

the silence afterwards stretched on for so long that you risked peaking at him from the corner of your eye. then george nodded his head slowly before a small smile escaped his lips, running a hand through his hair. “y’know...to be honest with you, i’m nervous about the same thing.”

“really?” you asked, taken aback.

he nodded. “i was nervous to talk to you because of how the others would react, and i certainly don’t want to put your job in jeopardy.” his voice was low and soft, his eyes surprisingly earnest. “i know that i have a certain amount of power over you because, ah, well... my level of... _ fame? _ ” he said the word with a grimace. you laugh softly despite the serious tone. “i never want you to feel like i’m forcing you or that i’m making you do something you don’t want to.” he cleared his throat, your heart already pounding so hard in your chest, you could barely hear his words. “excuse me for sort of...laying myself bare to you for a moment, but i want to try to get to know you better, if you’ll let me... honestly, i think you’re an amazing person and i’m very much attracted to you.  _ obviously _ ,” he said, his voice deepening into a gruff whisper that made a shiver go down your spine. “and you’re really beautiful and cool and funny and...the fire you have for your work is inspiring. i want to be with you, if you’ll let me.”

once all the words were out, george deflated a little but still stared at you, waiting anxiously for your response. you couldn’t even form any words, beyond your first thought being  _ holy shit he thinks i’m “funny?” _

he sounded so...vulnerable, a confession that was both emotional and earnest. he knew what was at stake, but the real risk would be what it would do to  _ you _ \- and he recognized that. the ball was in your court now. 

you suddenly laughed nervously, and his smile widened, a question in his eyes. you shook your head. “no, it’s not - it’s just - i can’t believe you think i’m  _ funny _ . i promise, once you spend more than a day with me, you’ll know i’m a total dork.”

“i think i’d like to be the judge of that.” he slid a hand out to you across the bed sheets, his fingers spread. you reached for it and laid your hand on top of it, your fingers curling underneath. you both watched as you compared sizes a moment before threading your fingers through his, his hand engulfing yours. 

“so...you want to go slow?” he clarified, his eyes searching. you felt like the only woman in the world when he looked at you like that. you nodded slowly.

“just until we figure this out,” you said, blushing. 

george smiled in response. “i can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on my [tumblr!](https://icedb1ackcoffee.tumblr.com) come say hi!


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